In many parts of India, entering a forest once meant entering the home of a deity.
It also meant stepping onto land where a tree could not be cut, an animal could not be hunted and, in some places, even fallen wood could not be taken away.
The rules were rarely written down. Instead, they travelled through stories, rituals, festivals and warnings passed from one generation to the next.
Today, scientists have another vocabulary for these places: biodiversity refuges, carbon stores, water catchments and ecological corridors.
India has another, older vocabulary.
Devarakadu in Karnataka. Kavu in Kerala. Oran in Rajasthan. Sarna or Jaherthan in Jharkhand. Law Kyntang in Meghalaya. Umang Lai in Manipur. Dev Van in Himachal Pradesh.
Different landscapes and different communities, but a shared idea: some forests are not ours to use freely.
As forests are increasingly fragmented for roads, infrastructure and other forms of development, that old idea is finding new relevance.
A forest with a boundary you cannot always see
Sacred groves are patches of natural vegetation protected by communities because of their religious, cultural or spiritual significance. They can range from a handful of trees to village forests spread across several hectares.
The rules vary from place to place. In some groves, cutting trees and hunting are completely prohibited. Elsewhere, communities may collect honey, medicinal plants or deadwood under customary rules.
Because they are often less disturbed than surrounding landscapes, these groves can preserve native plants and animals that have disappeared elsewhere. Their tree cover can also help reduce soil erosion, retain moisture and support groundwater recharge.
In dry landscapes, sacred commons can provide communities with grazing land, fodder and water.
In other words, a centuries-old cultural practice can also protect an ecosystem — and that ecosystem, in turn, continues to support the community.
The scale of this tradition, however, is difficult to pin down.
The rules vary from place to place. In some groves, cutting trees and hunting are completely prohibited. Elsewhere, communities may collect honey, medicinal plants or deadwood under customary rules. Photograph: (The Wire Science)
The CPR Environmental Education Centre has documented thousands of sacred groves across India. Its records list 13,270 groves, while older estimates suggest the actual number could be much higher. CPREEC itself notes that its documentation is not necessarily a final count and continues to work on their conservation and restoration.
That uncertainty matters.
Sacred groves are not always neatly marked parcels on a government map. Many are community-protected landscapes whose boundaries and rules exist primarily through customary knowledge.
One idea, many names
Travel from the Western Ghats to the Thar, and the name changes with the landscape.
The idea, however, remains remarkably similar.
In Karnataka, it is Devarakadu
In Karnataka’s Malnad region, Devara Kadu are treated as more than forests.
Traditionally, felling, lopping and clearing trees — and even removing weeds — are forbidden. The five natural elements are revered as part of nature worship.
Yet these groves have been shrinking.
A survey found that their area had fallen from around 15,000 acres to less than 9,000 acres by 2018. A New Indian Express report attributed the encroachments to factors including migration and the pursuit of economic returns.
In Kerala, they are called Kavus
Particularly common in Kannur and Kasaragod, Kerala’s Kavus have retained much of their original forest character and harbour native species.
The Kerala State Biodiversity Board has now launched a pilot restoration programme covering five Kavus. More than 100 native and threatened plant species have been identified, with nearly 3,000 saplings planned for planting.
Law Kyntang and Umang Lai in the Northeast
In Meghalaya, the Khasi community protects sacred groves known as Law Kyntang or Law Lyngdoh through customary traditions.
Researchers from Assam Royal Global University found that the Law Kyntang Ryngkew Swer Sacred Grove stores more than 100 megagrams of carbon per hectare, with the densest patches reaching up to 200 Mg/ha.
In Manipur, sacred forests associated with deities are known as Umang Lai.
Around 365 groves have been reported across the state, although recent research points to growing pressure from urban expansion.
In Jharkhand, Sarna or Jaherthan
In Jharkhand, sacred forest patches are known as Sarna or Jaherthan and are central to tribal worship.
Last year, hundreds of Adivasis in traditional attire formed a human chain in Ranchi, waving the red-and-white flags of the Sarna faith and protesting the recently completed ramp of the Siram Toli-Meccon flyover.
The CPR Environmental Education Centre has documented thousands of sacred groves across India. Photograph: (Ecoldealz)
Their concern was that the ramp ended just feet from a Kendriya Sarna Sthal, a central sacred grove that draws lakhs of visitors each year.
Sal (Shorea robusta) is sacred in many such groves, although other species also occur. In East Singhbhum, Santhal and Bhumij communities call these sacred spaces Jaherthan, where Sal and mahua (Madhuca longifolia) are among the trees found.
The Thar has Orans
Nowhere is the ecological value of sacred landscapes more striking than Rajasthan.
The Orans of the Thar may look very different from the dense forests of Kerala or Meghalaya. Yet they perform many of the same functions.
The Supreme Court’s December 2024 judgment noted that Rajasthan has around 25,000 Orans covering approximately six lakh hectares, with about 5.37 lakh hectares located in the western Thar.
These landscapes provide grazing areas, forest produce, medicinal plants and water. They also help protect springs, ponds and groundwater systems.
Today, they face a new question: how can land needed for India’s clean-energy transition coexist with community-protected ecosystems?
The question has become particularly visible around solar and wind projects in western Rajasthan, where pastoral communities depend on grasslands and commons.
Conservationist and camel herder Sumer Singh Bhati, whom The Better India recently spoke to, has highlighted community concerns that large-scale solar development could damage grasslands and native grasses such as sewan and dhaman, on which livestock depend.
The issue, therefore, is not simply development versus conservation. It is also about recognising what already exists on the land — including its ecological functions and community rights.
A court draws the line
That is where the Supreme Court’s 18 December 2024 judgment becomes significant.
While hearing a case concerning Rajasthan’s sacred groves, the Court directed the state to conduct on-ground and satellite mapping of sacred groves, including Orans, Dev-vans and Rundhs, and complete their survey and notification across districts.
Crucially, it said their classification should not depend on their size. Their cultural and ecological significance should matter.
The Court also directed that the groves be classified as forests in accordance with the Central Empowered Committee’s recommendations and suggested protection under the Wildlife Protection Act’s community-reserve framework.
In dry landscapes, sacred commons can provide communities with grazing land, fodder and water. Photograph: (Félix Landry Yuan.)
It was an important recognition of something communities had understood for generations:
A forest does not become valuable only when it is large enough to appear on a map.
For centuries, these communities have protected patches of nature not through formal conservation plans, but through belief, custom and collective responsibility.
The names may change from one region to another. So do the rituals and rules.
But the underlying principle remains the same: some parts of nature are worth protecting simply because they sustain life — and because they are not ours to destroy.
